Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  “The lake is our front yard. We’re sitting in the back. With such a beautiful view, why would the front of a house face away from the water?”

  She chuckled. “How silly of me not to know that.”

  “But view and size have nothing over what your home has.”

  “What?”

  “People.”

  Meg laughed. Right about then, she’d take an empty house. “But, come summer, your family will be here.”

  “Dad’s usually busy with the Beacon, and my sister is married now. Mom won’t come up with just me here. She has her charity work, and Dad needs her to grace his arm at social events.” He opened his car door. “Shall we get out? I want to show you the front.”

  Meg nodded. “That’s a marvelous idea.”

  Basking in the grin Jack flashed, Meg waited for him to circle around and assist her out of the sedan.

  He offered his arm, and she gripped it just above his elbow. The silky feel of his wool suit stirred her senses, reminding her of the day they met, when she touched his overcoat. They followed a flagstone path along the north side of the house and came to a wide stone porch that curved around the width of the home. Tucked into a corner of the porch, a swing bobbled in the breeze, as though waiting for its occupants to return. A perfect place to sip lemonade and write or read a book.

  Jack indicated tiny nubs of green poking out of the ground in front of the porch. “The daffodils are growing. Soon this spot will be ablaze in yellow. Then, later, red tulips will join them. Mom keeps this place colorful all summer long.”

  She grinned. “My mother likes gardening too. This is wonderful. I have to admit I’ve not come this far along the shore. I didn’t realize there were places like this.”

  “When our boat comes out of storage, I’ll take you around all twenty-one miles of shoreline. You’ll see plenty besides those mansions.”

  She glanced down the shore path that traveled beneath tall, over-arching trees and past other houses of similar size. “Has your family lived here long?”

  “Ever since Granddad bought the lot, when it was first parceled out. The deed will eventually pass to me and my sister.”

  At the catch in Jack’s voice Meg’s heart squeezed.

  He waved at a stack of white pilings. “The dock is still dismantled for winter, but we can sit on the porch swing. I’ll head inside and get something to sit on. Do you want anything to drink while I’m…” He chuckled. “Guess I’d better check and see if I have anything to offer. I think there’s some ginger ale in the icebox. Or there’s water.”

  Meg laughed. “Whatever you find is fine.”

  Jack ran up the stairs at the far end of the porch and let himself through the front door. Overhead, white cumulus clouds drifted across a deep blue sky, and Meg relaxed for the first time in days. She’d always considered her family privileged to live a block from the water, but to have a home this close was heaven.

  A door clicked shut behind her and she turned. Jack carried two glasses of water and a dark green blanket. She met him at the top of the stairs and took the drinks. He spread the blanket over the swing and they sat side by side. Jack started the swing moving in a gentle sway.

  Meg sipped her water and tipped her head back. She closed her eyes, enjoying the companionable silence.

  “What did you think about the sermon?”

  Meg opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

  “That verse about trusting God makes sense. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand why things happen the way they do, but then later I look back and realize it was all for the best.”

  She gulped. “So now you think it’s been God all along who worked things out?”

  “I’ve always called it luck, but I wonder if it was God. You’ve been going to church all your life. This is nothing new to you. Right?”

  Meg worked her lower lip. “I’ve heard it all my life, but sometimes…”

  “Sometimes what?”

  She shrugged. “God doesn’t always give us what we want.”

  Jack swirled the water in his glass. “Like the reporter position?”

  She snapped her eyes away from him and stared at the lake. “Yes. But realistically, my chances of getting the job were small. The Bible says that God has thoughts toward us of peace and not evil, to give us an expected end. Whose expectations? Mine or God’s?”

  “What your preacher said about trusting God even when our anticipated answers don’t come right away seems to cover that.”

  A kernel of hope welled up in Meg’s chest. She focused on the distant shore and blinked hard. God surely was still on His throne, but lately it felt like He was too busy with others needier than her. Jack apparently thought she had a lifesaver to offer, but she was drowning herself. “I suppose you’re right, but you seem to have had a good life so far.”

  He stopped the swing with his foot. “Life’s not so rosy with me. My dad has a terrible cough. He says it’s left over from a cold, but he’s going to the doctor this week. I’ve never thought much about him not always being here.”

  Meg chided herself for her selfishness. What kind of louse was she, thinking of herself and her job while Jack’s dad might be seriously ill? “That must be scary, not knowing what’s wrong with him. Has he been ill before?”

  Jack shook his head. “Other than the occasional cold, no.”

  “If he thought his condition was serious, wouldn’t he want you back in Chicago?”

  “I keep telling myself that.” He offered a smile that seemed forced. “Enough of the serious talk. Doesn’t the lake look marvelous today?”

  Meg glanced at the lake and then looked back in Jack’s direction. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles as if what he’d just revealed about his father no longer bothered him. He was probably one of those people who could easily distract himself from the worries on his mind. Meg envied him that.

  His eyes closed, she studied his profile. Square jaw, chiseled features, full lips… What would it be like to kiss him? He probably had a lot of experience in that department. Meg drew her head out of her not-so-lofty thoughts and looked at her watch. She hated to disturb the tranquility, but if they were late for dinner, Mom wouldn’t be happy. “We should get going.”

  Jack scrambled to his feet. “There isn’t a single Bible in this house. I’m going to have to buy one. Maybe next Sunday’s sermon will help shed more light.”

  Meg accepted his proffered hand and stood.

  He kept his grip as he regarded her face and then her mouth.

  She felt heat tinge her cheeks.

  “Thanks for helping me sort out my thoughts. For listening. I’ve enjoyed this.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze, and a tingle shot up her arm.

  She bobbed her head. “Me too.”

  He released his grip then gathered the blanket and empty glasses. “I’ll put these inside before we go.”

  Back on the state road, the memory of Jack’s palm against hers teased Meg’s thoughts. Something had sparked back there, and sparks like that meant danger. They came from different worlds, didn’t they? She’d heard the stories about rich men from the shore showing interest in girls from town, only to take up suddenly with women of their own class and leave broken hearts behind.

  She peeked his direction. “How did your dad come to run the Beacon?” Her voice sounded shaky. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  “Like the house, he had the paper willed to him. My grandfather had worked his way up from a small-town paper to the Beacon, and he eventually bought it.”

  “A position you didn’t have to apply for, a house you never bought… I can’t imagine having one’s entire life handed down like a commodity.” A sigh slipped out. “I suppose you didn’t purchase this car either.”

  Jack changed gears as they headed downhill into town. “It was a belated graduation gift. In DC, I didn’t need a car. Look, Meg, I probably am a little spoiled by not having to grapple for privileges.” His e
xpression became somber. “Nothing humbles a man like working a breadline and handing a plate of beans to a former business executive who used to be your neighbor.”

  Meg fingered the strap of her handbag. “That really happened?”

  “Yes, and I realized in the wink of an eye that I could be that man. That’s why I asked if you knew of any breadlines around here.”

  Why couldn’t she appreciate how blessed she was, living in a town like Lake Geneva? She had a job, a home, food in her stomach—and yet she felt so restless.

  By the time they entered the house, Mom’s chicken was out of the oven and Laura had set the table. Like the week before, Meg and Jack joined hands for Dad’s prayer, only this time she didn’t shy away from the pleasing sensation his touch caused. After dinner, Laura was excused to study and Dad suggested they play Landlord’s and Prosperity, with Meg’s parents teaming up against her and Jack.

  Jack was unfamiliar with the game, and it seemed Dad was on his way to winning as usual. But Meg surprised herself. She helped Jack strategize, and soon they began to overtake her parents, buying up most of the properties on the board.

  Dad threw up his hands. “We should know better than to play with a couple of whizzes.”

  Jack grinned at Meg. “Looks like we’re going to trounce them—thanks to your help.”

  Meg grinned. It had been a long while since such laughter had filled her house, and she loved it.

  Later, when Jack said good night at the door, it seemed with his leaving the joy went too. She wanted to make him stay longer…but she didn’t try.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following morning, a gust of wind whipped off the lake, causing Meg to fasten the top button on her coat. Yesterday’s warm promises of summer—gone in an instant. Maybe the sharp breeze would awaken her, since she’d tossed and turned for most of the night, trying to discover when she and Jack had progressed from acquaintance and coworker to something more.

  Was it when they held hands for a second, or when they laughed through the game? Maybe while they sat at the kitchen table over coffee and second servings of Mom’s apple crisp. Pinning down the moment was like trying to grasp a fistful of wind…maybe because the moment was only a figment of her imagination and hadn’t really happened at all.

  Her mother had capped off the day by bringing a brown leather book into the kitchen and handing it to Jack, saying, “No need to buy one. Here’s an extra we have.”

  His face lit up like a light bulb as he flipped through pages so new they wanted to stick together. Mom’s generosity wasn’t a surprise. She always had a Bible handy for moments when she sensed the Spirit’s leading to give one away.

  God’s Word used to give Meg the same joy she’d seen Jack display, and she’d have wanted nothing more than to know a man who felt the same. An ache pressed against her heart, and she slowed her steps. Now every time she opened the Bible, the words seemed dry and lifeless. The last thing Jack needed was to be involved with someone on the outs with God.

  “Trust Me.”

  Meg stopped and gasped. The voice seemed to come from within her. Mom would say she’d heard God. But why would He speak to her now? Dad had changed his mind about her becoming his secretary since Mom took the library job. Was that God encouraging her to trust Him again?

  When Meg arrived at the office, Jack sat at his desk typing. She nodded hello then sat and pulled a stack of want-ad forms from a drawer. As much as she wanted to peek at him, she stayed strong. She didn’t need his crooked smile discombobulating her. Her phone rang, and she answered it.

  “I heard you were in church with Mr. Wallace yesterday.”

  Meg’s face warmed, and she turned toward the switchboard. Emily wore an impish grin, and nut-brown ringlets escaped her topknot. Meg cupped the mouthpiece with her hand before speaking into it. “If you’d been there, you’d know he was with my family.”

  “I was under the weather, but my sister gushed about the handsome man with you. I just knew it was Mr. Wallace. You lucky girl.”

  Meg sensed someone standing nearby. She turned and looked up at Jack. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him an appealing boyish look. Heat surged up her neck and into her cheeks. “I have to go.” She hung up the phone.

  “Oscar asked me to find out whether Fred Newman and the protesters plan to raise another stink when they announce the contest winner.” He kept his gaze pinned on her. “I still think there’s more to the story than their caring about a young woman’s contest entry. Want to help?”

  Temptation dangled before her like a bag of Hershey’s Kisses, but if Mr. Zimmer heard of her working with Jack… “I’m sure you’ll learn what’s there if you dig.”

  He opened his mouth then snapped it shut and went back to his desk.

  Meg pushed aside her completed want-ad orders. Composing required them soon, but she needed to think. Working with an experienced reporter like Jack might give her an advantage when she moved. Maybe if she made sure Mr. Zimmer saw it as assisting Jack…

  “I’m looking for Jack Wallace. Am I in the right place?”

  Meg turned toward the melodious voice. A slender woman stood near Emily. Her red cupid’s-bow mouth and pink spots of rouge stood out against her alabaster complexion. She patted the fawn-colored turban that framed her auburn curls and blended perfectly with her brown tweed suit.

  Probably one of the lakeshore people Jack knew. Meg returned to her work.

  “Ginny?” Jack rushed past Meg, nearly falling over a chair.

  He pulled Ginny into a hug and whirled her around. A hint of gardenia tickled Meg’s nose with each spin. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Meg forced her mouth shut before he noticed it gaping. Not that it mattered. He only had eyes for her at the moment.

  He set Ginny down, and she smoothed her skirt. “It’s me in the flesh, Jack. I thought you were still in Washington and come to find out you’re here. Fancy that. How’ve you been?”

  Jack dropped his arms to his side. “Boss got voted out, and it was time to leave.” He stepped back and appraised her as a smile filled his face. “You look marvelous. New York agrees with you. On a little vacation from the Times?”

  “I wish. They brought Denise Swanson home from the London office. I’m looking for a job.” She scanned the room like a queen surveying her domain. Her lips pursed. “What are you doing here?”

  Meg’s spine stiffened. Who did Ginny think she was? She gripped the edge of her desk and forced herself to stay seated.

  “What better place to learn the biz than on a weekly? I highly recommend it.”

  “But why not learn from your da—”

  “Let me introduce you.” Jack faced the double row of desks and laughed. “I guess everyone already knows you’re here. Lost myself for a minute.”

  Meg surveyed the room. Even Gus and Leo from Composing had stepped over to see what the commotion was about. Served Jack right to be embarrassed.

  “Everyone, I’d like you to meet an old college friend of mine, Virginia Colson.” He gave her an admiring look. “Ginny has been working at the New York Times—since when?”

  Ginny flicked her wrist. “Just under a year. But that’s over now. I’m back in the Midwest.”

  “She’d been a feature writer.” He grinned. “Loved your piece last week on the innovative ways people are using to make extra money.”

  Mr. Zimmer walked over. “Jack, why don’t you bring your friend into my office?”

  “Sure.” Jack nodded. “Come on, Ginny. Oscar might be able to help your job search.”

  Ginny faced Mr. Zimmer, who had found a moment to slip on his suit jacket and tame his cowlick with some pomade. She tipped her head back and laughed. “Love to. Maybe you have a job right here for me.”

  She pranced into Mr. Zimmer’s office with the men following her like a pair of ducklings. The door shut and Meg glanced at Emily, who waved a cord and stuck it into the switchboard. Meg’s phone rang.


  “You’ve got your work cut out, Meg Alden.”

  She caught Emily’s gaze before whispering into the mouthpiece, “The only work I have is taking the next want-ad order.”

  “I’ve seen the way Mr. Wallace looks at you. Or did until Miss New York Times strutted through the door. She turned this place upside down faster than a tornado. Do you suppose the men are falling over each other, creating a job just for her? …Got a call.” The line went dead.

  Meg hung up and stared at Mr. Zimmer’s door. The faint tinkle of a woman’s laugh filtered out. Her phone rang, and she jumped. If Emily wanted to continue their conversation, she wasn’t going to find a very willing participant.

  Relieved that the call was for a want-ad, Meg reached for a form.

  An hour later, Mr. Zimmer’s door swung open and he stepped out, followed by Jack and Ginny. Jack whispered into Ginny’s ear and she approached Meg’s desk, her ruby-red lips forming a smile as fake as a Kewpie doll’s. “It’s Peg, right? Jack said you can show me to the restroom.”

  Meg pasted on her own smile, ignoring the pull to lead the woman to the outhouse next door. “Sure. And the name is Meg with an M.” She led Ginny to the other side of the Composing area. “It’s there. Be sure to lock the door. There’s no separate one for men.”

  Ginny arched a penciled brow. “At the Times, the ladies’ room was smaller than the men’s, but it was all ours.” She breezed into the compact space.

  “You’re welcome,” Meg said to the closed door. She returned to her desk.

  Jack and Mr. Zimmer stood at the switchboard chatting with Emily, both with their coats on. Mr. Zimmer beckoned Meg over. “We’re taking Ginny to lunch at the Gargoyle. Be sure to get the want-ad orders to Composing by this afternoon.”

  Meg nodded. “Sure thing.” She and Helen were going to the movies later, but she couldn’t wait until then to talk to her. Humming “California, Here I Come,” she picked up the phone.

  “There’s a booth.” Helen sashayed past the tables filling Franzoni’s, her platinum waves glistening like spun gold in the soda fountain’s overhead lamps.